Ink is a pulse…

There’s no escaping the aftermath of a global sense of despair.
Above it, all life goes on.
It’s a layer of thin veneer.
Once I was told that “all veneer is thin.”
But I like saying, “a thin layer of veneer can make many things appear smooth.”
Scratch it, and the reality it attempted to conceal shines through.
I still notice shops and malls that have since become empty shells.
Only a few scattered bits of shop-fitting tell a tale of retail and life.
On the home front, I still have the contact details of those who passed recently. Safely stored inside my phone.
I have a few scars of battles I fought these last two years.
Some of the scars are visible. There were two non-viral hospital visits that testify to life’s unpredictability.
One was in the OR, and another in the ER. But those scars healed.
The things I often suppress on the inside are problematic. There are still a lot I haven’t fully processed.
My experiences aren’t unique, but I won’t dilute them either.

So here’s what I figured…
After long deliberation, I decided to stop reflecting on “the facts” that are now in the past, and consider appreciating my pulse.
I’m still alive.
I can still draw and write.
Ink is a pulse. It is mine.
I’ll write about what I like. What interests me.
I’ll create documents to remind myself I’m still here.
Some might be nothing more than a line.
Even if it’s not much, it will be enough. It has to be!
In the process, I hope I can also inspire you to appreciate that you’re still here.
But let’s see if we can do this every day. Or at least as long as we can.
Let me hear your heartbeat.

To life,